


Black

by helvonasche



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Cunnilingus, Demon Dean Winchester, F/M, Female Ejaculation, NSFW, Paddling, Pegging, Rough Sex, porn and plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8906698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvonasche/pseuds/helvonasche
Summary: He felt like it had been months, years even, since his last real fuck. It wasn’t true, Dean had banged a pretty, little waitress just the night before, but he wasn’t looking for that. Dean, freed of his human attachments since his death and subsequent resurrection as a Knight of Hell, was now able to explore the numerous opportunities that his lack of humanity provided.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There is an homage to the incredible @spectaculacular-sammy's masterpiece Not Unless Sam Says. It had to be pink. <3 Hel.

He felt like it had been months, years even, since his last real fuck. It wasn’t true, Dean had banged a pretty, little waitress just the night before, but he wasn’t looking for that. Dean, freed of his human attachments since his death and subsequent resurrection as a Knight of Hell, was now able to explore the numerous opportunities that his lack of humanity provided.

Once he had talked to Crowley and gotten the information he needed, Dean paced the dingy motel room to gather his supplies. Stripping down and climbing into the shower, he lathered himself up and began to shave, meticulously removing all the hair from his body from the neck down. He didn’t have as much as most men his age, but he still wanted to be smooth and pristine for the evening ahead of him.

Rinsing the conditioner from his hair, he stepped out of the shower. Before grabbing his towel to dry himself off, he studied his body in the mirror. Dean noted that he hadn’t completely gone to seed, but his chest and stomach lacked the definition they once had. As he continued to appraise his body, tracking both the good and the bad qualities he possessed, his eyes lingered on his cock. 

Wrapping his fingers around it and giving a few playful tugs, he relished in the size and weight of his manhood. Dean, before the Mark, had prided himself on his charm and boyish smile, but now he knew that his pride had been misplaced. His cock already swelling in anticipation, Dean stopped touching himself and reached for his towel so he could finish getting ready. He couldn’t go wasting his load on the bathroom floor when the night ahead of him held so much promise.

* * *

Tossing the keys to the valet, Dean didn’t otherwise acknowledge him as he walked toward the club. The building wasn’t anything special, dark exterior with the word ‘Black’ scrawled in bright, white neon lights above the door.

Without a greeting, Dean walked into the door that Crowley held open for him. “Nice seeing you too,” Crowley said absently as he followed the former hunter into the entryway.

A petite redhead dressed like she worked for a Fortune 500 company and not a BDSM club greeted them. “Sir,” she nodded to Crowley. Her voice was sweeter when she spoke to Dean, “You will need to fill these out.” She handed him a clipboard with more than a couple pieces of paper. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask,” and she gestured to one of the leather chairs in the lobby. 

“I’ll wait outside, shall I?” Crowley asked, still uncertain if Dean would be able to restrain himself from killing one of his girls. He wasn’t running a whore house, it was a specialty club for a select clientele that had very specific needs when it came to their sexual appetites. These people paid exorbitant amounts for an hour or two of whatever their heart’s desired.

Dean nodded then walked to the chair and sat as he flipped through the paperwork. The first thing to catch his eye was one of the list items: ‘Anal Fisting’. Thinking for a moment, Dean began to read through the list carefully. He checked the items that he was interested in, marked the soft limits and the hard limits, having decided that anal fisting was a definite hard limit. When he came to the last item on the final page: safe word.

Smiling to himself, Dean wrote ‘Peaches’ and got up to hand off the clipboard. The ginger took it and told him to follow her as she walked away from him down a dark corridor. She opened a door on the left and gestured for him to enter. Dean had a moment to look around the room before she said, “Ophelia will be in shortly, please stay in your room.”

He raised his eyes as she remained in the doorway, giving him a once over before she forced a smile and closed the door. Dean studied the room he was in; he realized that the club was called ‘Black’, but they took it to an extreme. The walls, cabinets, tables, sex toys, chairs, couch… everything was black, and leather where it seemed appropriate. Taking a seat in one of the ornate chairs, Dean waited for a few minutes before he heard the clicking of high heels from the hall.

The door opened slowly and the redhead was back, her fake smile now smug and knowing, as she stood aside and another woman entered. Dean felt his jeans grow tight; there was something familiar and enticing about her.

Long, dark brown hair, wavy and stylishly unkempt, piercing blue eyes, blood red lips, but her face, her innocent face, is what seemed so familiar. She was wearing a beige sweater over a white button up shirt, and something silvery-blue reflecting the light from just above the swell of her breasts. His eyes continued down as she said something to the redhead and he heard the door close. Her black skirt falling past her knees, the black tights and black high-heeled shoes matching the rest of the decor. Dean was impressed with their ability to stick to one cohesive theme, even if it was only a color.

He was still admiring her clothing, reminded of something or someone he couldn’t quite place, when she spoke, “I’m Ophelia. Glad to see you aren’t disappointed with me.”

Glancing up to meet her eyes, he smirked, “Oh, sweetheart, you could never disappoint.”

Dean noticed that she was doing the same, studying his appearance and probably noticing that he was already half hard. He would have been shocked when she said, “Strip,” but he wasn’t there to do his taxes. 

“Ophelia… like Hamlet?” Dean asked as he unbuttoned his shirt.

She didn’t seem amused by the comparison, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were here to be sarcastic and discuss Shakespeare. Has there been a mistake, Dean?” Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that sent a jolt down his spine.

His cock hardening fast as he undressed, he replied, “No… mistress.”

A few short steps and a resounding crack, Dean’s head snapped to the side. He hadn’t seen her hand coming, but the sting that was left behind reassured him that Crowley had understood what Dean had been looking for. 

“I am not your ‘mistress’ or a dominatrix, Dean,” she said as he turned to face her, “I’m a sadist. I am going to hurt you and I am going to enjoy hurting you. You are here for my pleasure, not to fulfil some frat-boy fantasy.”

“I understand,” he said earnestly, before he quickly removed the rest of his clothing, folding and placing them neatly on the table, walking to the center of the room to stand at attention. He tried to hide his grin of satisfaction as his cock bobbed, but she seemed to be well aware of it. Ophelia slowly walked around him, and examined his body closely.

Feeling her eyes on him was thrilling, she wasn’t some bimbo that slung beers at a dive bar, this was her job and she would actually criticize him; if there was anything to criticize. Once she was standing in front of him again, he watched her gaze descend down his torso as she spoke, “When Crowley called this afternoon, insisting that we make accommodations for his  _ friend _ , I was hesitant, but you have some...” she paused as she blatantly stared at his manhood, “...truly impressive attributes, Dean.”

Their eyes met, and Dean was beside himself with her only comment. Despite his body’s age and lack of muscle tone, his own assessment that the monster between his thighs outweighed any other deficit he could possess. He briefly wondered if his own perceived slights in physique or personality were only him being hyper critical, but the thought was gone as quickly as it came when she instructed, “Lay on the chaise, head elevated.”

Dean was confused for a moment, but caught on that she meant the weird, half-couch, which was, surprisingly, black leather. Taking a seat and leaning back he realized that the  _ chaise _ , as she called it, was lower than he thought it should be. He shrugged it off as she walked behind him and began to run her fingers through his hair. 

Relaxing into her gentle touch, he gritted his teeth when her fingers tightened against his scalp and she slowly pulled his head against the arm of the couch. Staring down at him and tracing a finger along his jaw as she held him in place by his hair, she asked, “You like eating pussy?”

He took a deep breath and answered, “More than anything.”

Her smile widened as she stroked his cheek before running a hand to the hem of her skirt, “Prove it.” 

Because of how low the chaise was and the angle his head was at, Dean was able to watch as she revealed her naked sex and the thigh high tights. He licked his lips in anticipation as she lifted one leg onto the back of the couch and let go of Dean’s hair so she could settle on his face.

Immediately Dean opened his mouth wide and ran his tongue along her swollen lips; she was soaked. Nothing about her taste was that exceptional, but the feel of her relatively small cunt against his lips was more than enough for him. He had never been picky about going down on a chick, but it helped if there was something to enjoy aside from their praise. 

Her hips began to rock against his face, and he could tell she was already close. He smirked against her sex and decided to show her exactly how well versed in cunnilingus he was. Dean changed his tactic from licking into her folds, to sealing his lips around her clit and humming low against her flesh. 

Ophelia howled when he began to simultaneously suck and flick at her clit. He felt her body shake as she came and flooded his mouth with her cum; Dean groaned. The gold standard in pussy, for him at least, was a chick that could squirt. He didn’t plan to ever stop his assault until she collapsed, but when he felt a hand gripping his throat tightly he stopped. Dean laid his head back and watched her dismount and attempt to stand on uneasy legs.

Smoothing her skirt back down, she turned to him and the only sign that she had just had an orgasm was the slight flush on her cheeks. She spoke, her voice stern but slightly breathy, “Time to ride the horse.”

Dean sat up, licking his lips, and looked around to see what she could be referring to this time. She pulled a modified sawhorse to the middle of the room. It was mahogany with black leather padding and he walked up to the wooden horse, asking without thinking, “How?”

Calm as ever, Ophelia walked behind him and stroked his back before gripping his hips and moving him so he was centered along the horizontal beam. With force that her small frame didn’t seem capable of, she gripped the back of his neck and pushed down slowly, forcing him to lean over it. As she made small adjustments to his positioning, she whispered in his ear, “Face down, kitty up, pretty boy.”

Dean lifted his head, not knowing if he should, and watched as she crossed the room to grab a small black paddle. He knew what was coming, and his cock moved as if it were nodding in agreement. 

She faced him and he was busted. Hoping this would cost him dearly, he saw the other items on the table that she had taken out: a four-inch butt plug. Ophelia tilted her head and asked, “Do you need to be warmed up?”

Shaking his head, Dean said, “No.”

He watched her grab the black plug and a small bottle of lube. Dean wanted more than that rinky-dink toy, but she had yet to disappoint and he wanted to be teased a little before they really got started.

When she was behind him, he heard her open the small bottle and a moment later felt the cool plastic sliding over his hole. One of his more recent realizations was his pegging kink. There was something about a woman fucking him, taking what she wanted and denying him the usual satisfaction of being buried inside her cunt, but having her buried inside him… well, Dean wasn’t sure there was anything else like it. 

The plug settled inside him, and he no longer felt her skirt brushing the backs of his thighs. “Count,” was all she said, before the first blow landed on his left ass cheek. 

He counted off five for each side, never crying out or even tearing up; Dean hadn’t ever felt this good before and the last thing on his mind was whining about her incredibly strong paddling skills. Next time, and he had already decided that there would be  _ many _ next times, he would have her use a real paddle, not the plastic thing she had just pummeled him with.

Dean felt his cock throb painfully, and he wondered why she hadn’t put a cock ring on him. It hadn’t even been on the forms he had filled out; maybe, he thought, that was something he had to request. He wished he’d thought of that sooner when he felt her pulling and twisting the plug, brushing it against his prostate as his cock practically wept precum onto the floor.

In an almost lazy voice, she asked as she continued to play with the buttplug,”Tell me what you want, Dean.”

He tried to concentrate as the pressure inside him continued to build, “I want you t-to tease me,” he said shakily. “I-I want you to get me so worked up I can’t think,” he tried to remain calm as he formed the next few sentences, “I want you to hurt me. I want you to fuck me...I want you to fuck my ass…hard.” Dean needed her to understand, she was driving him insane with the teasing when she suddenly stopped as he finished speaking.

Breathing heavily, Dean realized that she was walking back to the cabinets and she turned to look at him as she said, “You can watch, Dean.”

As she unbuttoned her shirt and pulled off her sweater, Dean wished there was someone else here to tease him with the plug again. Her skin was so smooth and fair, and he thought he saw the lacey edge of her bra until she finished unbuttoning her shirt. He arched an eyebrow as she revealed the black corset, draping her shirt and sweater over the back of a chair, and turned around to face away from him. Dean watched greedily as she unzipped the skirt and pushed it down, bending at the waist so he could see everything she had to offer. 

She stood and stepped out of the skirt, bending again to pick it up and draped it over the rest of her clothing. Ophelia asked, her voice as serene as her face, “Shoes on or-”

“On! Keep them on... please,” Dean blurted. The weird victorian-styled shoes with the lace-topped thigh-high tights, and the corset when combined with her, made Dean feel lightheaded. She was so beautiful in that moment it was almost painful to look at her.

Lost in thought Dean missed her grabbing something out of one of the drawers, until she was putting on panties. Dean was confused as he watched her; the panties had straps on the sides and back that she was pulling on to make them tighter. His eyes went wide when she faced him. The front of the panties had a metal circle and in her hand was a reasonably sized pink dildo. 

He continued to watch, keeping his mind blank so he wouldn’t miss a thing as she snapped the pink toy to the harness and walked around him. Dean heard the click from her opening the bottle of lube again and he was speechless when he felt the cold liquid on his skin. 

“Are you ready, Dean?” she asked, her voice so patient and even. 

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, then said, “Yes.” She gripped the base of the plug and pulled it out carefully, Dean had to fight to keep from moaning. He had thought that the next thing he would feel was the head of the pink phallus, but when two of her delicate fingers breached him Dean’s head dropped and he groaned. 

“This is what you want?” Ophelia asked as she fingered his ass.

Still moaning as she added another finger, Dean fought to get the words out, “Y-yesss.. Oh fuck, yes. Thank you.”

A few minutes of Dean’s whining and begging for more, Ophelia removed her fingers and began to slap the pink shaft against his ass. “Such a good boy, Dean,” she cooed as he felt her line the head of the fake cock up. He shivered when she began to press the head into him, as she ordered, “Good boys don’t cum.”

Dean struggled to obey as she continued to push and pull the pink toy, each of her thrusts hitting his prostate and causing his balls to tighten against the shaft of his cock. He was getting lost in the still unfamiliar, but wholly welcome intrusion, when he felt her hands grip his hips.

She rocked against him, and asked, “You ready for the real fun, Dean?”

Nodding emphatically and giving up entirely on coherent speech, Dean moaned and tried to keep from cumming. Ophelia held a hand against his lower back and began to roll her hips against him, and Dean was seeing stars. When he thought it was too late, that he was going to cum, she pulled out halfway and slammed back into him. 

“Such a tight, little ass,” Ophelia said as she thrust into him hard, “And those pretty noises… you really enjoy this, don’t you Dean?”

Dean was scrambling to find something to hold onto, settling for gripping his hands behind his neck as she pounded into him. He felt grounded again and found he could speak, “Yes. Oh, fuck, yes. Keep fucking me, please, don’t stop.”

Hearing her chuckle, Dean knew he was done for and he didn’t care. One of the perks of being a demon, Dean knew that any damage she might do to his body he could fix. Dean arched his back and twisted as best he could to see her as he growled, “Harder.”

He had a moment to see her wicked smile before she drew her nails down his back then draped herself over him. Kissing his sweaty, overheated skin as she started to gently roll her hips again, she asked, “You like having a big dick in your ass?”

Dean hummed as he bit his lips to keep from crying out. He was so close to cumming and she was pushing him beyond his limits. “Can you cum like this?” she asked, her voice saccharine sweet. As her hand slid around his neck, he nearly lost it when she said, “What’s that big cock for if you would rather eat pussy and getting your ass fucked. I bet you suck dick as good as you eat pussy.”

No longer concerned with the sounds he might make, Dean was moaning and practically sobbing. Each word she said hit some nerve in him that had him hanging on the edge, he tried to pay attention as she spoke, “...you wrap those pretty, pink lips around a fat cock and let him fuck your face, don’t you?”

Dean had missed part of what she was saying, but he didn’t care. He felt the weight of her body on his disappear as she said, “All that dick and you can’t even use it.” Confused for a moment, Dean had thought he came and didn’t notice. A quick inventory of his body and he most assuredly hadn’t cum.

That’s when it hit him, her words repeating in his mind as he watched her take off the strapon.  _ All that dick and you can’t even use it _ . He couldn’t remember what she had said before it, some question he hadn’t answered so she assumed… “What’s next?” he asked angrily.

She turned and eyed him, “Whatever you want, Dean.” 

Dean stood and had to resist the urge to stroke himself as he asked, “How do you want me?”

She thought for a moment before pointing at the couch thing again and instructing, “Go sit.” 

Making himself comfortable he watched her approach, Dean grinned as she ran a hand across his chest and pushed him back. He knew that even if she rode him, he’d be able to show her how wrong she was, but quickly lost focus. Even though he was laying back, she tapped his knee and said, “Shoulders on the ground and keep your hands above your head.”

Confused, but doing as she said, he kept his hips on the cushioned seat as he slid his shoulders to the floor and rested his head. Loosely framing his head with his arms, Dean watched as she knelt over him and placed her feet on either side of his body. Smiling down at him as she reached for his cock, Dean sighed as she spread her legs. 

Holding his cock against her pussy, she rocked her hips a few times before sitting up and positioning the head of his cock at her entrance. Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched her stretch around him as she sank down on him without hesitation. No one, not one person had ever taken him like this. Dean knew he wouldn’t last when she bottomed out and sighed, as he felt her inner muscles clench around him. 

Ophelia leaned back, her legs spread wide and placed her hands on his thighs behind her for balance before she started to roll her hips. Dean was mesmerized as her body moved fluidly, her hair falling into her face and that’s when he saw it; she like it. Ophelia started to moan and Dean couldn’t take anymore, as he begged, “Please.”

Flipping her hair out of her face, she asked, “You’re ready?”

Dean didn’t know if he had ever been more ready and he nodded. Immediately her hips began to snap, forcing his throbbing cock deep inside her a few times, and her cunt tensed around him. Her eyes locked onto his and she took as much of him as she could before she came. 

His control broke as she ground her hips against his. Dean’s hands flew to her hips, as he began to pound into her and watch her face contort in pleasure. Without warning, he felt her channel go impossibly tight and felt a gush of liquid pour from her. She howled when he gave a final thrust and came inside her.

* * *

Dean watched her closely as he buttoned his shirt, and looked up when he heard the door open. Crowley walked into the room and smiled at Ophelia, who said deffidently, “Sir?”

Turning away from her, the brit asked, “How was she, Dean? Everything you hoped for, I assume.”

Pulling on his jacket, Dean said, “Gotta say, I was skeptical at first, but she will do nicely.” Glancing at Ophelia, he saw confusion and fear flash across her face for a moment before she put up a mask of indifference. Dean thought for a moment that she would be good for him in the long run.

Crowley approached her and said in a fatherly tone, “Do you remember that little arrangement we made, sweet Ophelia?” She nodded and he continued, “Well, rather than throw you to my hounds like the rest, Dean will be doling out your punishment,” he paused and cradled her chin in his hand when he continued in a menacing voice, “Obey him, pet.”

Releasing the girl's face and exiting the room, Dean faced her and expected her to break down. As he hoped, she didn’t shy away from meeting his gaze, and he walked toward her. Ducking his head as he straightened her sweater, he said, “Better the devil you know...” his eyes flashing black as they met hers, “...than the devil you don’t, right sweetheart?”


End file.
